


Pictionary

by ArcticMel



Series: Why Thursday Night Isn't Board Game Night [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-17 06:33:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1377421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcticMel/pseuds/ArcticMel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The third and final game and the explanation as to why Thursday night isn't board game night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pictionary

**Author's Note:**

> This picks up a week after 'Jenga'.

A month ago, Steve Rogers would never have imagined calling a tower full of superheroes home.  Certainly, had someone had told him that he would have bested Howard Stark’s son at Monopoly two weeks ago and witnessed assassins playing Jenga the week after that, well, he would have politely suggested that they seek immediate medical attention.

The first rays of sunlight were just beginning to reach the top floors of the tower as Steve strolled into the common kitchen.  Normally up early, he was used to grabbing something to tide him over after his workout while he waited for other members of the group to slowly appear.  

This morning, Steve was surprised to find their resident physicist seated at the table, asleep.

Bruce's head was tipped down, resting on one hand, face inches from a mug of tea.  Glasses that had likely once been atop his unruly curls were now precariously balanced on edge of his forehead.  Steam fogged the lenses, indicating his tea had been made recently, however the state of the table suggested he had been in the kitchen for a while.  The surface in front of Bruce was covered in papers and a tablet was trapped beneath his elbow.  

Steve grinned fondly at the sight.  The world was only shown the pinnacle of this brilliant man's anger.  How tragic it was that they may never see the depth of his kindness, the quiet beauty of his intellect, or his subtle, sarcastic sense of humor.  Steve knew that being allowed beyond Banner's carefully constructed walls was a privilege.  Knowing only the SHIELD-reported incidents that made up Bruce's life, that the man had chosen not to become the monster the media portrayed him to be, had left Steve in admiration even before they had met.

Back on the helicarrier during The Battle of New York, Steve expected and accepted Bruce not to return after the Hulk fell from the sky.  Bruce had found the cube and done his job; the only task Fury had asked of him.  And, as a reward for his service, they had discovered that Bruce had been manipulated by Loki from the beginning and that SHIELD had a room ready and waiting to detain the Hulk.  Steve really could not begrudge the other man's need to get as far away from the situation as possible.

Yet somehow, somewhere in it all, Tony had seen the scientist's deeply buried need to belong and had taken the opportunity to fuel that glimmer of hope.

When Bruce had reappeared, Steve felt no hesitation.  The super-soldier accepted, at face value, anyone who showed up ready to work.  He knew what it was like to be rejected for what people saw rather than who you truly were.

Bruce had the heart of a hero, even if he was blinded to that truth by standing in the shadow of the Hulk.

Feeling protective of the sleeping scientist, Steve grabbed a muffin off the counter, dug the sports section out of the newspaper on the breakfast bar, and quietly settled in at the opposite end of the table.  He plucked off bits of the muffin, brushing crumbs off the newsprint as he perused yesterday's baseball scores.  

Tony ordered the paper just for him.  Steve found the crisp sound and feel of the old-fashioned medium grounding, comforting, in the chaos of this modern world.  Tony loved catering to the 'eccentricities' of his partner and Steve had watched Tony quietly adapt that behavior to all the Avengers.  The engineer clearly enjoyed having a tower full of guests, although he tried to hide it.  Natasha's favorite imported dark chocolate was endlessly in stock, innovative arrows were always in the works for Clint, the occasional new silk tie materialized in Coulson's closet, and Thor's room was updated with new Midgardian knickknacks every time he visited.

Unexpectedly, Bruce had been the challenge.  

His initial integration with the Avengers had gone well.  Better than Steve expected, honestly.  And Bruce had easily agreed to go back to the tower with Tony.  Giving him his own lab and living space had seemed like the next logical step and Bruce had accepted the offer, albeit somewhat hesitantly.  

The unanticipated result of that gift was Bruce promptly isolating himself from the group.  

Steve had been baffled.  Had Bruce felt he’d just been biding his time, waiting for everything to end?  For SHIELD to contain him?  Was he expecting the group to ask him to leave now that they had had time to realize what a danger he truly was?  

The sudden change in behavior was the first time Steve had seen Tony truly perplexed, which was definitely a dangerous state of mind for the engineer.  Ultimately, the group had talked Tony out of doing something rash and decided to wait Banner out rather than push.  After all, he hadn't left, and that was something.  

Bruce’s choice to participate in the team building board games had been promising.  Then, a few days ago, Bruce had dropped by Tony's lab to borrow a piece of equipment.  

Sketching from the couch across the room, Steve had watched as Tony lured a hesitant Bruce in on a problem he'd been working on.  Unable to walk away from a challenge, Bruce had grudgingly joined in.  As the two worked, Steve had watched the physicist's posture slowly relax, and walls lower.  It didn't take long before the pair exuded the unadulterated glee that Steve associated with the likes of childhood best friends absorbed in play.

A man desperately trying to be invisible and a man who chose to be a shining beacon on a global scale: both at their best as part of a team.

A 'clink' from the other side of the table caused Steve to look up.  The scientists' glasses had succumbed to the laws of physics and bounced off his mug, on to the table.  The sound jolted Bruce awake, sending his tablet clattering to the floor.  Sheets of paper followed, lazily floating down onto the tile.

Bruce glanced around quickly, squinted at his surroundings and sighed.  He ran a hand through his disheveled curls, the corner of his mouth upturned.  "Um, hi, Steve," Bruce said, with an undertone of laughter in his voice and the soft crimson of embarrassment coloring his cheeks.

Steve moved to help Bruce retrieve his things.  

"Good morning, Bruce," Steve answered with a wide grin, retrieving the tablet from where it had skittered under the stools at the breakfast bar.  "You didn't sleep here all night, did you?"

"Oh, no."  Bruce retrieved his glasses and bent down to collect his papers.  "Well, mostly, no," he grinned.  "Just needed to get out of the lab."

"Sure,” Steve agreed, “we can all benefit from a change of scenery now and then.  And there are certainly plenty of places in this tower to gain a new perspective.  I’m still getting used to the size of it all, though.  Don’t tell Tony I said that,” he grinned, placing a stack of papers on the table, “he’ll take it as a mission to show me every inch of the rebuild again.”  

Bruce huffed a laugh and added the last of his papers to the pile.

“I will say that having everyone here makes it feel smaller, though; more comfortable, I guess,” Steve reflected as they both reclaimed their seats.

"Your team bonding exercises seem to be going well," said Bruce with a grin.

"Yeah, I think I've managed to get just about everyone interested.  Wrangling up superheroes for a few hours a week is much closer, I suspect, to herding kindergartners than soldiers," said Steve.

Bruce chuckled at the thought.  "I think it’s going better than you’re allowing for, Steve."

"Mmm, maybe," the other man admitted.  "Certainly there's no binding paperwork committing anyone to years of service.  Well, not really.  Not with this clever group, anyway.  Though SHIELD doesn't seem to enjoy losing track of anyone."

"True," Bruce agreed. "Ends of the Earth or bottom of the ocean, they do seem to find what they're looking for..."

"Although," Steve began gently, "now there would be a tower full of resources to help someone stay 'lost'."

Bruce smirked into his mug, watching the last remnants of steam curl away.

"I was hiding by necessity.  At least initially, anyway.  Pursued by SHIELD.  Ross.  And once I realized there was no...escape…  

“I missed being part of the world, and I hated myself for that.  After what I’d done, what I’d become, what right did I have to miss anything?”

Bruce looked back up at Steve, “It took me a long time decide that I needed to do what I could.  That at the absolute minimum, I owed the world some type of contribution for the damage I had done.  That I could do good and stay safe.  Outside, on the fringes, but safe.  I realized I was hiding by choice; hiding from myself.

“I'm not comfortable here yet.  I don't know that I'll ever truly be, honestly.  I’ll always be a danger to all of you.”  Steve opened his mouth to offer a rebuttal but Bruce waved him off.  “Superheroes are still vulnerable,” he said sternly.  

Steve grinned.

Bruce continued in a lighter tone, “The company here is pleasant, though, and there’s never a dull moment.  Also, I'd miss Clint’s pancakes," Bruce said with a sly smile.

Steve laughed.  “Agreed,” he replied.  The super-soldier was quiet for a moment, then he smoothed out his newspaper and looked back up at Bruce.  "All of this - being here, seventy years in my future, starting from scratch?  I was hiding in what I know best: the military, Captain America.  It's what I'm used to; it's safe.  I didn’t belong.  I mean, what do you do with a man lost to time?  SHIELD was polite...respectful...but not -"  Steve took a breath, "It's not the same.  Without family and friends...well, I suppose you know."

Bruce met Steve's gaze with empathetic eyes and a warm smile, then he glanced down at his watch.  "It's Thursday, isn't it?” he said as he stood.  “Will I see you at the game tonight?"

Steve's was caught off guard by the question.  "Well, I hadn't picked something yet.  I don't seem to be finding quite the right game.  This group is, challenging, to say the least.”

"Oh, don't worry," Bruce said casually, as he gathered up an armful of papers and his tablet, "it's all been taken care of."  

The physicist grinned, brown eyes alight with mischief, and tipped his head down in parting gesture.  "See you at seven," he said and strolled out of the room.

Steve suddenly found himself alone in the kitchen, blinking in surprise at Bruce’s retreating form.  With a hopeful grin, he popped a piece of muffin into his mouth and went back to reading his newspaper.

  


*******

Promptly at seven, Steve entered the common living room to a sea of smiling superheroes.  He stopped in the archway, pleased but slightly suspicious.  

Tony stepped up and put a hand on his shoulder.  "Come on," said Tony softly, grinning, taking his partner's hand.  "We made this just for you, you know.  It was suggested that somehow that beautiful brain of yours missed how much we appreciate you making this group of hooligans work together.  Even if it involves board games," Tony sighed.  

"Anyway, you'll like it.  I was involved, so of course you'll like it."  Tony gestured toward the couch, "Look, prime seating.  I called ahead.  Oh, and you’re on my team.  All the cool kids are."  He led Steve into the living room and took a seat next to Bruce.

Clint, Natasha and Thor were seated on the opposing couch.  

"Yeah, I don't know if 'cool' was the word you were looking for, Stark," said Natasha.

"Old," volunteered Clint, brightly.  "Well, maybe 'technically old'.  No offense, Cap."

The nicest interpretation Steve could think of for Tony's glare at Clint was 'jackass'.  

Before Steve could interject, Bruce leaned forward.  "Um, I think Thor's the 'oldest' Avenger here, Clint," said Bruce.  "Besides," he began, voice tinged with challenge, "I believe your youth will be a disadvantage here..."

"Ha!" said Thor, voice booming with joyous anticipation.  "We shall shatter the flooring with you, Banner!"

Bruce huffed a laugh, eyes gleaming, "Thor, the phrase is 'wipe the floor with you'."

The demigod frowned, "I do not think that is the best way to incapacitate your opponent."

"Wow," said Tony, flatly, "the sports world could really take a lesson on trash talk from this group."

Steve heard something that sounded suspiciously like a snicker from the armchair that contained Coulson.  The agent was typing away on his tablet, exuding his usual facade of disinterest.

"Come on, Phil," said Clint, in his most persuasive voice, "you know you want to play..."  The archer flashed a grin and batted his eyelashes at his partner.

"Referee."  Coulson pointed to himself, not looking up from his work.

Clint scowled, then suddenly his entire face lit up.  "Does that mean you're going to use your game show host voice?"

Steve looked up, startled by the question.  Movement to his left made him fairly certain Bruce was smothering a grin with his hand.  Thor seemed unphased and, for his own safety, Steve chose to chalk up the dancing of Natasha's eyes to a trick of the light.  

It was then that he realized Tony hadn't moved.  

Steve watched as his partner's eyes went wide.  The engineer blinked and the corner of his mouth twitched.  "Agent," he began, innocently, "you...have a game show host voice?"

"No," said Coulson, voice dangerously quiet, accompanied by a glare focused so intensely on Clint that Steve was surprised the archer didn't burst into flames.  Even Natasha appeared to be leaning slightly away from her fellow assassin.

Clint did have the good grace to focus his grin on the carpeting, though Steve thought the tips of the other man's ears were slightly pink.  "My mistake," Clint said, with an air of innocence and the barest hint of apology.  "Maybe I'm thinking of your angry voicemail voice.  Or Tony's Maria Hill impression?  No, no," he continued, blonde head shaking, "um...  Oh, _Fury's_ game show host voice!  Mmmm, no, that can't be it.  That's his regular voice..."

"Clint," Coulson said firmly.  The archer fell obediently silent, fiddled with the zipper on the pocket of his cargo pants and threw a wink in Steve's direction.

Steve grinned and shook his head.  "Okay," he said, "what are we playing?"

"Pictionary.  Tony Stark-style," said Tony, brightly.

"Um, exactly what does that mean," asked Bruce.

"It's modified.  Phrases handpicked by JARVIS so that this eclectic group can play.  It's still Pictionary," said Tony.

Steve looked questioningly at Coulson.  The agent grinned and elaborated, "For anyone who hasn't played before, one member of the team is given a phrase and has to draw pictures that lead their team to guess the phrase within the allotted amount of time.  They are awarded a point for the correct answer.  The team with the most points at the end of the evening wins."

"JARVIS is going to send the clues to your Stark phones," said Tony.  He placed a hand on Steve's shoulder and continued, "I nominate our fearless leader to go first."

The rest of the team voiced their agreement and Steve found himself pulling his phone out of his pocket as he walked toward the large screen mounted on the wall.  A bar appeared along the bottom edge.  It began with black to the far left and graduated up through the color spectrum as Steve swiped the bar across the screen.  Every imaginable hue was available with the touch of a finger.

"Tony, this is incredible," said Steve.

Tony smiled broadly.  "If you really like it, I'll set up a tablet for you with the program and you can paint to your heart's content."

"That would be wonderful.  Thanks," Steve said, fondly.  "Okay, JARVIS, I'm ready.  Please send me my clue."  Steve's phone lit up and a grin crossed his face.  He pocketed his phone and looked over at Coulson.

The agent smiled, and nodded at Steve to begin.

His first lines were an experiment, to get a feel for the medium.  It was like finger painting on glass.  Steve began with the rich periwinkle of a bridge he knew, as he replicated a painting he'd seen many times.  One of his mother's favorites.  He knew he wouldn't truly do such a great work justice but it fit the clue and it was the first thing that came to mind.

As he became more comfortable with the screen, his confidence grew and his speed increased.  Soon, he was using both hands as he slid through the color continuation bar faster, pulling shades of deep greens, illuminating yellows, and warm, accenting reds.  Broad strokes filled the glass.  Colors swirled together, a cohesive picture formed by his own hand.

The feeling was freeing.

Steve startled when Coulson said, "Ten seconds."  It was then he realized the team had been watching in silence.  

Steve turned to see their faces full of kindness and admiration.  A blush rose on his face and he fought not to duck his head down in embarrassment.  "Sorry.  I, ah, guess I got caught up in the moment..."

"Steve, it's beautiful," said Natasha.  "The painting is Monet's 'Water-Lily Pond', right?"

Steve nodded.

Bruce smiled softly, "And your phrase was 'water under the bridge'?"

Steve nodded again, the corner of his mouth turned up.  

"Um, who's next?" Steve asked, flustered, as he returned to the couch, gaze now focused on his hands in his lap.  Steve allowed Tony's fingers to gently tip his face upward.  Steve met dark eyes, intense with passion.  Tony kissed him softly and Steve returned the kiss, slightly breathless.  Fingers intertwined with his partner's, Steve shifted his focus back toward the room as Thor stood up.  

"I shall lead our team," said the Asgardian, turning back toward the assassins.

"All yours," said Clint.

Natasha nodded in agreement.

The demigod effortlessly caught the phone Clint tossed in his direction.  He glanced at the screen, grinned widely, and returned the phone to the archer.

"I am ready, Son of Coul," said Thor.

"Go ahead," said Coulson.

Thor began by aggressively drawing a vertical spiral, the thick black lines narrowed as they moved downward.  A quick swipe across the screen and soon golden lightning bolts shot menacingly from the sides.

"Ah, Thor, buddy, could you be a little softer on the glass there.  Game's over if it shatters," warned Tony.

"Ha!  Stark, where is your sense of adventure?" chided Thor, as he continued to sketch away enthusiastically.

The board wavered and Tony ran a hand across his face.  Steve smirked and nudged the engineer with his shoulder.

"A tornado?" guessed Clint.

"A storm," said Natasha.

"Yes!" said Thor as he moved to the other side of the screen, broad hand in continual motion.

"Write 'storm' above that picture, Thor," instructed Coulson.

The demigod did as he was told and moved on to draw a narrow oval, width-wise, at the top of the screen.  He pulled the color bar across until he was able to select a pale blue-ish grey, used to form bold lines that stretched down from the oval.

"Hmmm...is it a shower?" asked Natasha.

"Ooh!  It's a shiny quiver!" said Clint.

Natasha glared at the archer and his gleeful expression turned into an exaggerated pout.

Thor's brow furrowed and he began to trace over his lines for emphasis.

For once, Steve was glad he wasn’t on Thor’s team.  He had no better guess than the assassins and both Tony and Bruce appeared equally baffled.  He looked over at Coulson just in time to catch the agent's face as it transformed into a knowing grin.  

"Ten seconds," Coulson said, calmly.

Thor grunted in frustration and glared at his team.  Steve surreptitiously glanced up toward the ceiling to check that storm clouds hadn't formed in the living room.

"Time," Coulson called.

Thor roared in frustration.  "How could you not see it?" he bellowed at the assassins.

"See what?" Clint shouted back.

"The portal!" said Thor, as he thumped his finger on the board.  "Any _portal_ in a storm!"

Clint groaned loudly and covered his face with his hands.

"Thor," Coulson said kindly, "I think you may have misread the clue.  Port.  Any port in the storm."

Tony laughed out loud.  Steve half-heartedly elbowed the engineer in the ribs, but struggled to maintain a straight face, himself.

Thor caught Clint's phone again and glared, untrustingly at the device.  "Hmph. If you say so," he said.  "Why would one find a port when they could choose a portal?"

Natasha grinned softly.  "I'd rather find a portal, too," she said, reassuringly, as she patted the seat cushion next to her, motioning for the demi-god to retake his place.

"Port," Thor grumbled as he sat down, and Clint placed a hand on his shoulder.

Bruce smiled knowingly at Thor.  "You'll get us next time," he said as Tony reached across to stoically pat the demi-god on the knee.  

"Okay," Tony said, "my turn."  He stood as his phone lit up.  He glanced at it, glared at it, and directed a frustrated look toward the ceiling.  "JARVIS, I asked you to adapt this so everyone could play, but really?  How do you draw a Bilgesnipe?"

“Antlers,” Coulson supplied smoothly, without bothering to look up.

"I was only following your instructions, Sir," JARVIS replied.  Steve thought he could detect an undertone of sarcasm from the AI.

"Next clue, _please_ , JARVIS," Tony growled through his most polite smile.  His phone lit up again and he snorted at the clue.  "Okay, Agent.  Time me."

"Go," said Coulson.

Steve watched as Tony wrote 'NaCl' on the glass.

"Hey!  No words!" chided Clint.

"It's not a word," countered Tony.

Eyes narrowed in consideration, Coulson said, "Okay, Stark, I'll allow it."

"Ha!  Nice try, Katniss," Tony said, as he made a face at Clint.  Clint sneered.  Tony ignored the archer and continued by writing 'NaOH' underneath his first offering and then stepped away from the board.

Steve was stumped.  "Tony...," he began but was interrupted when Bruce started to laugh.

The engineer turned toward Bruce and grinned widely.

"Oh, Tony," said Bruce, "that...that's just terrible."

"What?!" said Clint, voice saturated with frustration. "What is it?!"

Bruce grinned down at his hands and fiddled with the button on his cuff.  "The base is under assault," he answered.

"Exactly!" Tony beamed.  "That one was for you, Big Guy.  Oh, I also had JARVIS stash away a few phrases in case your charming alter ego wanted to play."

"Well, that's very thoughtful of you but I don't think The Other Guy is any good at Pictionary."

"We'll never know if he never tries.  No?  Mmm, your loss."  Tony reclaimed his seat on the couch and set his features in his most neutral, business-like expression.  "Your turn," he said to the assassins.

"Somehow," said Natasha, "I feel like that was cheating," and she turned her focus from the engineer to Coulson.

Coulson shrugged, gave Clint and Natasha a look Steve couldn't read, and went back to his tablet.

"Don't get too cocky, Stark," Clint said, as he moved in front of the board.

"Moi?  Clearly, you've mistaken me for someone else," Tony replied smoothly.

Clint smirked and picked up his phone.  He gave a quick nod to acknowledge the clue, reached his hands above his head, and stretched, leaning from side to side.

A pillow, thrown with the speed and accuracy of an assassin, smacked him in the head.

"Hey!" the archer protested, "I was warming up!"

"Idiot," said Natasha, as she rolled her eyes.  "Today, Clint."

"Fine, fine.  But if we lose," he said, pointing at her, "it's your fault."

"Yeah," said Tony, "um, I'm gonna file an official protest.  Someone's trying to influence the judge.  With his abs."

Steve smothered a grin as Clint, with eyes wide and a hand clutched to his chest, replied, "Why, I would never!"

"Okay, okay," said Coulson, one hand in the air, gesturing for a truce, "enough.  Your time starts now, Clint."

Steve watched, amused, as Clint took to the board with a flourish.  The archer's entire body seemed to be involved in the drawing process.  Steve thought maybe that was how he made up for the countless hours of having to stay still on the job.

Eventually, there seemed to be something taking form on the screen.  Steve's expression moved to curiosity as he judged Clint to be drawing some sort of cross between a squirrel and a windmill.

Thor was unusually quiet as he considered the board thoughtfully, and Steve wondered what Clint's art looked like through Asgardian eyes.

Next to him, Steve could feel Tony's mind spinning and he put a hand on his partner's knee to stop the engineer from making some type of snide comment.  Tony rolled his eyes at Steve and sighed, exasperated.

"Ten seconds," called Coulson.

Clint maintained his frantic pace, illustrations cramped into the center of the board.

Natasha's soft voice broke the silence, "A stitch in time saves nine."

"Yes!" exclaimed Clint, fists thrust into the air in triumph.

Tony flew out of his chair at the same moment Bruce burst into hysterical laughter.

"Foul!" Tony shouted.  "Oh, no.  No.  No, no, no, no!  YOU," he growled and pointed at Clint, "and YOU," he pointed at Natasha, "I don't-!  Why-?"  Tony whirled around toward Steve, "They cannot be on the same team.  I will not stand for such blatant cheating under my roof.  I thought I'd made that clear after the Monopoly incident.  There were notices posted throughout the tower.  You've all read them.  I have the retinal scans to prove it."

"Retinal scans?" Natasha asked, in her most casually menacing tone.

"No, no," Tony said, back peddling quickly, hands raised in a defensive posture, "did I say retinal scans?  No.  Surely not.  No.  Clearly, you've caught me in a moment of rambling brought on by stress.  A board game related breakdown.  Very common."

"What?" said Clint, in a tone that clearly indicated he thought Tony was full of it.

"You.  All of you.  Impossible to pick games for.  Seriously, the most advanced AI on the planet has to help.  Besides, there is just a sad, sad amount of movie knowledge in this room.  It is clearly preventing some of you from fully appreciating my rapier wit.  As the person with the greatest amount of pop culture knowledge here, it is my duty, as a representative of concerned American citizens, to expose all of you to movie classics.  Gandhi.  Ghostbusters.  Die Hard.  From this day forward, I declare Thursday to be movie night.  

“JARVIS, cue up Jumanji.  Steve, this movie is a prime example of why board games are a hidden hazard.  It's what I've been telling you all along.  Extremely dangerous.  The increase in paper cuts.  Accidental swallowing of plastic Operation parts.   Weeks of work lost to injury, resulting in the decline of productivity in the workplace.  No," Tony said firmly, "as a business owner, I refuse to contribute to the fall of Western Civilization.  

“Instead, I will make popcorn."  And Tony turned on his heel and marched into the kitchen.

Steve laughed out loud, and buried his head in his hands.  As he worked to catch his breath, he ran a hand through his hair, and looked up to see Bruce's smiling face.

"I'm sure we can still get in a board game or two," said the scientist, conspiratorially.

"I don't think I truly realized what I was getting into here," Steve said with a groan that bordered on laughter.

"Oh, I don't know," Bruce said, brown eyes dancing, "I can't think of any place I'd rather be."

**Author's Note:**

> The painting Steve was lovingly replicating:
> 
> http://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/claude-monet-the-water-lily-pond
> 
> **************  
> It took me much too long to post this. Thanks so much for reading my little series!
> 
> The front portion of this fic was originally two chapters of something slightly different (but still Steve and Bruce) that were pulled out and may eventually turn into a stand alone fic thanks to the foresight of [Jadesymb](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadesymb) and [BrassLizard](http://brasslizard.tumblr.com/). It would be absolutely impossible for me to do any of this without their invaluable edits and shoving!


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